Forty Thousand Brothers
by Cynthia Arrow
Summary: What exactly is Donna to Josh?


Author: Cynthia Arrow  
  
Disclaimer: No infringement, I swear.  
  
Rating: This is Donna here, so PG  
  
A/N: I was watching Kenneth Branagh's Hamlet, and I was searching for a nice hook for a short little moody introspective piece. Pardon the errors. I have no beta, and I'm impatient.   
  
Forty Thousand Brothers   
  
Their bond was a strong one, reminding Donna oddly of the game red rover, red rover. Locking arms and daring any challenger to 'come over'-run fast and hit hard and still fall down, unadmitted. They had taken their share of bruises, but when she watched Sam and Josh embrace, it was like watching a child-like joy, an unconscious happiness spreading through both men. Sam's athletic, tight shoulders constricted as he wrapped his arms around Josh. Sometimes she thought he'd break him in half, so intense was that fraction of a second. Sam is a rather intense person. Then his shoulders would drop, and he would settle into a peace that made his expressive blue eyes lighten. Sam would go from happy-excited to platonically passionate to calm in as short a time as it took to throw both arms around Josh in protective friendship.  
  
Donna understood that feeling. In fact, at times, she'd been the one standing there, arms linked, daring anybody to try and run through.  
  
Josh was like Sam's brother. Like his younger brother. Somehow, the man behind the beautiful chisled face inspired admiration in Josh, but it was an admiration he showed by acting like a puppy, ready to greet its owner. His whole body practically wagged, and the hug was almost not a hug, often, because of Josh's impatient way of wanting to touch and retouch, to move and take in as much of Sam as he could. It was another thing that made Donna love him, seeing that devotion. Josh would pull back and return to his usual confident self, oblivious to how intimate the whole exchange had been. What was it CJ said? On her snarky days, she said they looked like they needed to just get a room. But both women knew this wasn't some latent, repressed sexual thing. It was, as CJ had said, like they were the only ones in the room, for as long as two heterosexual guys can do that and not feel self-conscious.  
  
It seemed normal to Donna. They were brothers. Even if one brother was strong and smooth and walked into a room with equal parts exuded confidence and conscious trepidation, and the other brother alternately swaggered the way only a born nerd could and stopped in uneasy panic like only Josh could, they were brothers. That one intimate moment they shared upon meeting encapsulated it. Donna knew her relationship with Josh was no less strong, but it summarized itself in smaller, less intense gestures. Sam was now the long lost brother, the one whose presence was a gift. Donna was the present one, and hers was the relationship taken for granted.  
  
It was in the fighting that they established their claim on each other, like real siblings. And then would be the small things, the inclination of his head toward her, the requisite yelling of her name, the hand on her back, the unwarranted sarcasm, the smile she was convinced no one else ever got to see. Donna watched them let go of each other, watched Sam and Josh go back to being two guys instead of one unit of trust and love. She wasn't jealous anymore. There were so many little things that made her bond with Josh just as strong. She realized, slowly, that to him she was like Sam: a brother.  
  
That was not what she wanted from Josh. I am no mere brother, she thought. What was the line from Hamlet? Hamlet stands over Ophelia's grave, fighting with her brother. Then his pronouncement, foolish sounding unless you've lived it. Forty thousand brothers could not with all their quantity of love make up my sum. I've just got to make him see that. It won't be easy. He's insensible to subtlety. It will take an embrace that nearly breaks him in half. Or it will take me leaving him before he appreciates what he's missed.  
  
Donna shook her head, knowing she had neither the guts for a big gesture nor the heart to walk away and stay away. But she had to do something. She didn't want it to be too late. He is my Ophelia, she thought, grinning at how he'd object to being put into the feminine role. I almost lost him once. Surely there's time before he tries to leave me again.  
  
Conscience does make cowards of us all. Frailty, she said to herself, thy name is woman. 


End file.
